Candy Crush

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Yeah, she did. She got married about a year after that, and now she has a cute little boy. I think she got over it a lot faster than any of the rest of us—we all felt pretty lied to. I mean, Oz’s dad had taken my dad out fishing, and our moms were good friends—we were probably a little too intertwined, if you want to know the truth.”

  “But you were planning to be family. Aren’t families supposed to be intertwined?”

  Alicia thought about that for a minute. “I don’t know. Maybe I only feel that way because it felt like such a betrayal to all of us. But like I said, my sister moved on, so I guess the rest of us should have too.” She paused. “I told Oz I’d see him tonight after we close.”

  “You did?” Heidi looked surprised. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. I was pretty stunned when he asked, but I didn’t know what else to say. Why does he want to talk to me? I mean, he’s got to know that we didn’t part as friends. I didn’t leave him guessing on that.”

  “Maybe he wants to apologize.” Heidi finished the jewelry case and tucked the rag back under the counter. “It’s been a while, and you’ve both matured and changed—he’s probably ready to come clean with you and admit what a jerk he was.”

  “That would be nice to hear,” Alicia replied.

  Just then, the door to the general store opened, and Adiel Bozeman stepped inside. Heidi and Alicia immediately fell silent and greeted him with smiles. He was the main writer for the television show being filmed, and they were under instructions to help out the crew in any way they could.

  “Hello,” he said. “I need some toothpaste, please.”

  “Right over here,” Alicia told him, leading the way to the correct aisle. It was nice to concentrate on her job for a minute and to push Oz to the background, but in truth, he never really went into the background at all. It would seem that she had a special talent for selling toothpaste and stewing over an old crush at the exact same time.

  ***

  Oz had plugged the address into his GPS, but for some reason, it seemed to want to take him through every little side neighborhood instead of the main roads. When he finally found the right street, he saw a car pulling out of a driveway up ahead, and it looked like the house he was heading for.

  He wasn’t about to let that girl drive off without her flowers—not after all the work Whitney had put into the arrangement.

  Okay—not after everything he’d gone through to get those candy bars.

  He turned the wheel on the delivery van and brought it to a stop diagonally across the road, effectively blocking off the car’s exit. He’d learned a thing or two from the television crew vans.

  The car slowed, then stopped, and the driver, an older woman, stuck her head out through the open window. “What’s going on here? Why are you blocking the road?”

  Oz hopped out of the van. “I’m looking for Samantha Green. I have a delivery.”

  The woman shook her head. “Really? You’re blocking the road because you have a delivery?”

  “Can you tell me if you or your passenger is Samantha?” He already figured the driver was her cranky mother, but he decided not to say that out loud. Plus, maybe she had a good reason for being cranky—he wasn’t there to judge.

  “I’m Samantha,” called out the young woman in the passenger seat.

  Oz smiled. “Well, I’ve got a surprise for you.” He slid open the side door of the van and lifted out the arrangement. He could hear Samantha squeal as he walked up to the car. “Do you mind if I place this in the back seat for you?”

  “I most certainly do mind,” the older woman said. “We have luggage back there.”

  “Not that much, Mom,” Samantha said. “We can make it fit.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any use in asking who sent it,” her mother said. “I’m sure it was that boy.”

  “That man, Mom,” Samantha corrected. “You make him sound like some kid I found on a playground somewhere.”

  Oz was getting a little uncomfortable, not only because he felt like an intruder in a private conversation, but the basket was getting heavier by the second. “Ladies, I don’t mean to rush you, but I am blocking the street, and I would also like to put this down.”

  The driver rolled her eyes. “Fine. You can put it in the back seat. If there’s room. Good grief—you’d think a dozen roses would be perfectly fine, but no. He always has to go for the biggest and flashiest and most inconvenient.”

  “Mom, just let me enjoy my gift, all right?” Samantha pleaded.

  Oz managed to open the back door by himself—he certainly wasn’t getting any help from up front—and he placed the basket in the center of the seat. It took a little creative rearranging of the luggage, but he got it all to fit. When he finally extricated himself, he saw at least four cars lined up, waiting for him to move, at least one of them honking.

  “You have a great day, ladies,” he said. “Samantha, get well soon.”

  “Thank you!” she called out as he trotted back to his van.

  He’d never blocked a street to make a floral delivery before, but he figured there was a first time for everything.

  He placed a call to the shop. “Hey, Whitney. Delivery’s made. Are we finished for the day?”

  “Yeah, we’re good. Go ahead and take the van home with you tonight, since you’re already pretty close to your place. No point in dragging it back out here.”

  “Well, that’s nice of you, but I’m heading back out anyway. I’ll park the van in the usual spot.”

  “Why are you coming back out . . . Oh. You’re coming to see Alicia.” Her voice became knowing. And annoying. Even through the speaker phone.

  “Yeah, I’m hoping we can at least talk.”

  Whitney sighed. “You know this is only going to lead to more awkwardness, right?”

  “I don’t necessarily know that. We might be able to patch up some bridges and be friends again. That’s good, right? Having friends? You’re always telling me I’m too introverted.”

  “True, but I’m not sure I meant to encourage you to get together with people who share painful pasts with you.”

  “Maybe they won’t be so painful after we talk about them.”

  “Fine. Okay. You go meet up with her. Talk things over. I just hope that you can get this all resolved without more feelings being hurt. I like both of you—I don’t want to see either of you bugged by this.”

  “Well, maybe this is just what we need to get unbugged. I’m on my way—see ya later.”

  He thought about what Whitney had said as he hung up the phone. Was this a recipe for completely predictable disaster? He should have just said hello to Alicia, wished her well, and then made a concerted effort to stay away from the general store forever. But that wasn’t even logical, or possible, or healthy. It would be good for them to get everything out in the open. Closure. Yeah. That’s it. Closure.

  Chapter Three

  “I hope the dining room here on the ranch is okay,” Oz said when he picked Alicia up at the general store. “We could go into Riston if you want.”

  “No, this is fine,” Alicia said. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting dinner, so this is nice, no matter where we go.”

  They walked toward the main house, their boots crunching on the ground as they went. It was so hard to think of something to say, but Oz knew he’d have to come up with something or this was going to be the worst dinner ever. He waited until they were seated and had their menus before he said, “Thank you for coming out with me tonight. I really wanted the chance to talk to you.”

  “Yeah. No problem.” She opened her menu and studied it. “Have you eaten here before?”

  “No. I’m more of a diner guy.”

  “It’s too bad they aren’t open for dinner, right? But the food here’s good too—it’s just a little fancier, maybe. Except for the pizza.”

  “What do you recommend?” he asked.

  “I liked the garlic fettucine alfredo, and the chicken parmesan is also pretty go
od.” She turned the page. “Oh, it looks like they’ve added two new salads.”

  Oz hated this. In the old days, they would never have sat around discussing menu items and acting like they even cared what was on their plates. This was polite blind date talk.

  When the waitress came back, they placed their orders, and then Oz decided he’d just dive in. That’s what he wanted, right? To have an honest conversation and get everything straightened out? It sounded easy enough, but actually doing it was harder than he’d thought. “How’s Angie?”

  “She’s good. She’s married, has a little boy. They’re living in Blackfoot now.” Alicia toyed with her fork. “And how’s Cam?”

  Oz cleared his throat. “Cam’s . . . Cam. He took a job on a fishing boat up in Alaska. We haven’t seen him for a little while, but he emails.”

  “Fishing. I remember your family likes fishing.”

  “Yeah, we do.” Okay, enough. This was getting worse by the second. “Alicia, what happened?”

  Her eyes flicked to his. “What do you mean?”

  “You. Me. Us. We used to be friends—or at least, I thought we were friends. But when Cam and Angie broke up, it was like . . . I don’t know. We fell apart too.”

  Her jaw dropped a little. “Is this a real question? Do you honestly not know?”

  “Know what?” He was getting frustrated. “If I knew, would I be asking?”

  She took a sip of her ice water, her expression exasperated. “I think that asking me to stay friends with you after everything that happened is pretty naïve, don’t you? As if I could.”

  “They broke up. That doesn’t mean we had to.”

  She let out a huff and looked around. “Um, yes, we did. I don’t like being lied to, Oz. It’s not something I look for in a friend.”

  “What?” He sat back and stared at her. “Lied to? What did I lie to you about?”

  “Can you keep your voice down, please? We both work on this ranch, and I’d really rather not make a scene.”

  “All right.” He tried again, his voice much lower. “Would you be so kind as to tell me in a polite, politically correct, socially acceptable way what on earth you’re talking about?”

  She leaned forward. “You knew Cam was cheating on Angie, and you never said one word about it.”

  “Uh . . .” Oz felt like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket. “No, I didn’t know about it, so how could I have said anything?”

  Alicia blinked. “What?”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “But Cam said . . .”

  Oz held up both hands. “My brother doesn’t have his head on straight, okay? If he did, he never would have cheated on Angie. And if he told you that I knew something about it, he was lying to you for some reason. Alicia, I promise you, I didn’t know a single thing about it, and if I did, I would have told you. That’s the truth.”

  The waitress slid their plates in front of them, and they both fell silent. Oz took a bite of his spaghetti, then said, “Why didn’t you confront me with this back then? We could have worked it out with a simple conversation, and then we would have been done with it.”

  “I don’t know.” She stabbed her fork into her chef salad. “Because I was so angry, I guess? I didn’t want to try to work it out—I figured I was right and you were wrong, and my whole family was mad at your whole family, and it would have been disloyal for me to stay friends with you. Lots of reasons.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She looked up at him. “What are you sorry for? We just decided you’re innocent, right?”

  He smiled, but it faded. “I’m sorry that we didn’t get it worked out before. I’m sorry that you’ve been mad at me all this time. Most of all, I’m sorry because I lost my best friend.”

  “I was your best friend?” She sounded surprised.

  “Yup. I’ve never had a better one.”

  “Not even since?”

  “Nope.”

  “Dang it, Oz, that’s really sad.” Her voice caught, and she gave a little laugh. “I’m your best friend, and that’s how I treated you? I didn’t even ask you to explain or give you a chance?” She shook her head. “You need a social life—like, bad. You can’t limit yourself to the likes of me.”

  “I like the likes of you.”

  “Nope. Obviously not healthy.” She looked at him across the table. “I think we need to start over, don’t you? I wasn’t mature enough back then to know how to handle stuff like this—that’s pretty clear, or I would have done a better job. Maybe we should pretend we just met today in the general store.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to pretend that we don’t have memories. A lot of them were fantastic.”

  Her face softened. “Yeah, lots of them were pretty great.”

  Like the time she’d fallen asleep during a movie and rested her head on his shoulder. Or like the time when she needed a date to a work party, and he went with her as a favor, and everyone just assumed they were a couple—he didn’t bother correcting them. Those were some excellent memories.

  “I’d rather we just forgive each other and move on. We can do that, right? It’s the mature thing to do now that we’re not teenagers anymore.”

  “Oh, yes. We’re so very mature.” She laughed. “Yes, please. I would love your forgiveness, and I would love to be friends again.”

  “And I’d love both too.” Oz lifted his glass of Coke. “To forgiveness.”

  She lifted her ice water. “To forgiveness.”

  They each took a sip, and then she looked down at her food. “You know what, this isn’t what I want.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Pizza.”

  Oz grinned and signaled the waitress. “I thought that looked a little too . . . I don’t know. Girly or something.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a salad,” Alicia said. “They’re very healthy.”

  “Yeah, but pizza is the food of the gods. The Italian gods.”

  Alicia looked skeptical. “There are Italian gods?”

  “Of course there are. Mario—he’s the father of all the gods. Like Zeus. And there’s Antonio and Flavio and . . .” He was drawing a blank. When the waitress came up to the table, he asked, “What are some Italian mens’ names?”

  She looked a little taken aback at the question, but she said, “Luigi. Giovanni. Mario.”

  “We already have Mario, but thanks for the others,” he told her. “We need to add on a large pepperoni pizza with black olives, please. To stay.”

  “You’ve got it. Would you like boxes for these meals?” She gestured to the table.

  “Yes, please,” Alicia told her, and she moved off to fill their order.

  “You still don’t like to waste food,” Oz said with a smile.

  “Nope. Never grew out of that.” She looked thoughtful. “So, are Mario and Luigi the Italian gods of plumbing?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m impressed that you know all this. You aren’t even Italian.”

  “I’m Italian in my soul. I bleed marinara sauce.” He motioned down at his plate. “I was even eating spaghetti before we ordered the pizza. It’s just part of who I am.”

  “I remember.” She paused. “I remember a lot of things. Good things.”

  The way she was looking at him made his heart beat a little faster. “This is how it’s supposed to be,” he said. “Laughing. Just hanging out. I missed this.”

  “Yeah. Me too. We’ve missed out on a lot, I think.” She grinned. “Why’d your brother have to be such a jerk? He messed things up for everybody.”

  “He’s one of those people who has to learn everything the hard way. You can tell him the stove is hot, but he’s got to touch it and get blisters up to his elbow before he’ll believe you.” Oz shook his head. “I love the guy, but I’m pretty sure one or the other of us was adopted.”

  She chuckled. “So, what have you been doing the last five years? College?”

  “Naw. I’m not the
college type—you know that.”

  “You might not be the type, but you’re definitely smart enough. You’ve proven that.”

  He shrugged. “Thanks. Um, let’s see. I actually started that grunge band I was always talking about.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “You did? No way!”

  “Yeah, I did. It didn’t last very long, though—we all had different ideas about what grunge meant, and our styles didn’t mesh as well as we thought they would. It was fun while it lasted, though.”

  “Did you keep up with music after that?”

  Oz looked down at the table, then back up. “I’ve written some things since then. They do an open mike night here at the ranch—thought I might get up the courage one of these times.”

  “I would love that! Listening to you sing was one of my favorite things ever.”

  “Really?” She was giving him a kind of fan girl look—that was unexpected. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Oh, yeah. Favorite things.” Her cheeks went a little pink. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I had a pretty big crush on you.”

  His heart stopped pounding, then gave an extra thud. “You did?”

  “I did.” She took a sip of her drink, looking completely embarrassed. “I thought for sure you knew—I wasn’t very good at hiding it.”

  He shook his head. “No, you were pretty good, actually. I didn’t have any clue.”

  The waitress brought their pizza just then, and they each took a slice. Oz was glad for the distraction. He needed a second to formulate his thoughts. “This is really good pizza,” he said after a couple of bites.

  She nodded. “It’s my favorite. So, you never finished your story.”

  “My story?”

  “Yeah. What happened after the band?”

  He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. A complete subject change was a good idea. “Well, after we all decided to do our own thing, I traveled around a little bit—buses, some hitchhiking, a lot of walking. I wanted to see some things, have some adventures.”

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous hitchhiking is?”

  He shrugged again. “No, not really.”

  She fished in her bag for her phone and punched some buttons. “See? Here’s an article . . . oh.” She looked a little crestfallen. “Okay, according to this, there’s only a 0.0000089% chance of being killed or raped while hitchhiking in the United States. That’s a lot of zeros. But . . . but it feels dangerous, okay? Don’t do it!”